


The Seven Days of Halloween-2018

by mrua7



Series: The Seven Days of Halloween Challenge-2018 [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mystery, Partnership, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:26:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon and Illya find themselves shanghaied.





	1. The Baychimo

**Author's Note:**

> Seven prompts, Seven stories, Seven days of terror 
> 
> This is for the Seven days of Halloween Challenge on Live Journal Section VII. Each day a different photo prompt is posted and the writers can compose a sentence, paragraph, poem, drabble, short or long story in response. No minimum or maximum word count. It must be gen and involve the men from U.N.C.L.E. ( or other UNCLE characters)

The prompt: Day 1

 

:

 

"Mmmmm,,” Napoleon moaned as he came to in total darkness. He had no idea where he was. Then it hit him… where was his partner?

He remembered they were together when they stepped out of a salty old bar located along the docks in the port city of Vancouver in Canada.

Napoleon reached to his aching head and felt the sizable lump on the back it.

“Illya? You here buddy?”

“Yes, and would you get your leg off me please?”

“Both my feet are on the floor.”

A second passed before Kuryakin responded.

“Beg pardon, we appear not to be alone, though the leg that I just removed from my stomach belongs to someone who is quite cold, and I would therefore assume is dead.”

“Peachy,” Solo mumbled. “Where do you think we are?”

“I would presume from the smell salt water as well as the motion, which is making me a bit nauseous, that we are possibly in the cargo hold of a ship. My head is throbbing; do you have a lump on your head, as I certainly do.My weapon is gone, is yours?"

Solo exhaled before grumbling, “Yes and that makes me venture a guess that we were shanghaied

“Agreed. Shall we try to find a way out of here my friend?”

“I thought you’d never ask tovarisch.”

They very carefully moved forward in the dark, feeling their way along in complete darkness; they touched what felt like stacks of furs until they could finally see a red emergency light over an exit. The door wasn’t locked but it moaned as it was opened making Napoleon cringe. All they could do was hope no one heard it.

Stepping out into a corridor; there was no sign of anyone.

They could hear the sounds of the ship's engines and as they climbed upwards, taking several metal staircases, they found their way to the crew's quarters and then the galley with no one in sight. At last they exited to the deck.  
  
It was frigid as the winds blew, they were surrounded by nothing but water with no land in sight. The ship was apparently moving full steam ahead but where was the crew?

“There is the bridge,” Illya pointed. “Someone has to be there piloting the ship.”

They had been relieved of their guns and feeling the need for defensive weapons they grabbed an axe that had been secured to the wall near an emergency fire hose. Illya found a crowbar laying nearby on the deck.

Both men thought it odd the tool seemed abandoned there but then this whole situation seemed odd. The two of them being shanghaied, a dead body in the hold and now not a living soul in sight on a mysterious ship.

Though once in a while they craned their necks as they swore they heard voices, in the end it may have just been the wind.

They arrived at the bridge and like the rest of the ship they found it empty. No one was at the controls piloting the vessel.

“Should we power it down?”Illya asked.

“Yes, yes that’s a good idea,” Napoleon didn’t sound sure of himself, which was unusual.“That will require one of us going down to the engine room, assuming no one is there.”

Illya felt uncomfortable with the idea of separating from his partner.

“Let’s just try doing this first, what the heck,” Napoleon said. He grabbed the handle of the brass chadburn, turning it to stop, normally that would signal the engineers to power the vessel down.

The agents both felt it, the cargo ship was slowing, until it indeed came to a stop.

“I’d say that means someone is still on board,” Napoleon said.

“I have a very bad feeling about this, I say we gather some supplies and launch a lifeboat.”

Illya wasn’t happy about the prospect of doing that as he knew he’d probably get seasick, but it seemed a better option than staying where they were. He was holding back about how unsettled he really felt. Part of him said it was a ghost ship, but the realist in him squelched those feelings.

Napoleon had learned a long time ago to trust his wily partner’s gut instincts. So they waited a few minutes until it was clear that no one was coming to the bridge. Napoleon decided then to go along with Illya’s plan.

After loading supplies that consisted tins of what seemed like freshly baked loaves of bread, large cans of fruits and vegetables, water and rain gear as well as a portable radio, they launched the lifeboat.

As they rowed away from the ship Illya asked for a piece of the bread to help settle his stomach, but when Napoleon reached for it the loaves of bread crumbled into dust. The once shiney tin cans were rusted and swollen as if they were about to explode. The water was rancid.

Luckily it wasn’t long before they were picked up by the Coast Guard, but when Illya told them the name of the cargo ship on which they’d found themselves, he was laughed at and looked at like he was off his rocker.

“The Baychimo? You’ve got to be joking!” They were adamant about not searching for the vessel but the Coast Guardsmen wouldn’t elaborate.

It wasn’t until Solo and Kuryakin had returned to New York where they learned the story of the SS _Baychimo_ after Illya’s curiosity had been piqued and he researched the vessel.

“Napoleon,” he read his findings to his partner, “the Baychimo had apparently started out as a German trading vessel before being given to Great Britain after World War I as part of reparations. It came under the ownership of the Hudson Bay Company, and made many voyages across the Atlantic from Scotland to Canada to trade with local Inuit tribes.”

“In 1931 while journeying to Vancouver with a cargo of furs, the _Baychimo_ fell victim to an early winter, as ice surrounded the ship and locked it in its grip. The crew escaped and fled across the ice floes to safety,”

“Some of the crew returned a few days later to try to rescue the ship and its valuable cargo. After a month of braving the weather in a flimsy camp, a blizzard hit and the remaining crew lost sight of the ship. Once the storm had cleared, the had _Baychimo_ disappeared.”

“It was assumed it had sunk without trace but a week later the ship was spotted by an Inuit hunter. The captain decided the ship was too badly damaged to be seaworthy and abandoned the idea of retrieving it, thinking it would soon break apart.

“Over the years, the _Baychimo_ had been sighted a number of times, sometimes caught fast in ice, other times floating ghost-like across the water… there are claims that people have been taken aboard it against their will, never to be seen again.”

“You really believe that tovarisch?” Napoleon snickered. “I thought you didn’t hold store in anything supernatural.”

“Supernatural? I do not know...still there is no plausible explanation for what happened to us, nor who it was who shanghaied us either.”

Napoleon was shocked; he’d never seen his partner stymied before. Maybe Illya was finally starting to believe…

  


**_A/N: the legend of the ghost ship Baychimo II is a true story….though I added the bit about people being shanghaied. mwa-ha-haaaa!_ **

 

 


	2. Happy Halloween

 

 **The prompt:**  
  
  


Illya was walking beside his partner along one of the grey corridors of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in New York city. 

The lights were dimmed as it was three o’clock in the morning; there were few employees present and accounting deemed it inefficient to waste electricity especially in the wee hours.

Certain areas maintained full lighting such as Waverly’s offices, the Section II conference room, Communications, Security and the Labs. Everywhere else the lights were out, though there were manual wall switches to turn on the lights where needed. 

The computer system had been set up to track the usage and it could be easily determined who turned on what lights where and if they turned them off or not when done.

The Old Man thought it a waste of his time having to lecture his personnel on excessive electricity usage and for once he didn’t have to reprimand Solo in such matters, no, Napoleon was prone to excesses in other areas.

As the partners continued down the corridor Illya came to a sudden halt. 

“I just remembered that it is All Hallow’s Eve, are you not going to gather any female staff members and try to scare the daylights out of them with one of your ridiculous ghost stories?”

“I was thinking about it Illya, some feminine company would be nice for the evening but I’m just too tired for story telling or love making for that matter.”

“I am shocked, I bet once you got going you could manage it,” the Russian pushed.

“That sounds like a challenge?” Napoleon smiled.

“Take it as you wish.”

“Fine then, follow me.”

They went to the secretarial pool where they found three lovely ladies who had unfortunately come up in the rotation for the night shift. They were sitting around talking and smoking as apparently what work they’d been given had been completed. Still they had to stay as agents arrived at all hours and would need reports typed.

“Why hello there ladies, and how are you this lovely, dark and perhaps spooky night?”

“That’s right,” a shapely blonde named Jill snapped her fingers. “It’s Halloween!” 

“Napoleon please tell us one of your stories? “Laurie...a brunette, clapped her hands together with glee. “But wait, let me go get some of the girls in Communications while they’re on their break.”

Laurie returned with three more of the ladies, two blonde and one raven-haired beauty that Napoleon hadn’t recalled meeting before. He eyed all seven women but it was the black-haired one with whom he was setting his sights. He claimed he was tired to his partner but when his libido kicked in he always found some reserve energy for his nocturnal adventures in bed.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, “ he addressed her. “Napoleon Solo and this quiet fellow is my partner Illya Kuryakin.

“My name is Caroline, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I have to say everyone here at headquarters is so friendly. I’ve only been here a week and so many people want to take me to lunch or dinner.”

“We try,” Napoleon smiled. He imagined that her 38-24-36 build might have had something to do with that...he was good at estimating such things, given he had so much experience with the female of the species.

“Why do you not make yourselves comfortable ladies,”Illya finally spoke up. “I am going to the Commissary to find something to eat.”

Kuryakin backed off towards the pneumatic doors and disappeared through them once they opened with a quiet ‘whoosh.’

“Now where should I begin? Do you want scary or terrifying?”

“We’ll leave that up to you Napoleon,”Laurie said. She’d been privy to his Halloween hijinks before and knew he was setting himself up for a night alone with Caroline. It was obvious that he was eyeing the new girl. 

Laurie and the others didn’t feel slighted; they’d all had their fun with Solo and no one felt possessive of him. He was a lover in the true sense of the word and treated every woman he went to bed with like she was the only woman in the world.

The others gave a silent sigh at it not being their turn to snuggle with Napoleon Solo. Still there was always another time. 

“It was a dark and stormy night,” he began.

“Why do spooky stories always have to start like that?”Caroline asked.

“I don’t know, I guess it sets the mood,” he said.

“Quiet Caroline, just let him tell the story his way.”

“No, it was a fair question. Say did you ladies know that UNCLE headquarters is haunted?”

“Really?”They all gasped. This was something none of them had ever heard before and it got their attention immediately. 

“You’re just kidding right?”Caroline asked.

“I kid you not. It was something that’s been kept under wraps just to keep people calm here, though the ghost only shows up around Halloween.”

“Whose ghost Napoleon? I’ve been here for eight years and never heard anything about it until now,” Laurie asked.

“It’s because Mister Waverly ordered it not to be discussed. He finally released the information from File 40 just this year, but still everyone’s been quiet about it. Now may I tell the story please?”

The women nodded vigorously as they squeezed together. Everyone except Caroline knew that Solo’s stories could be pretty far out, and frightening. He was also prone to a bit of embellishment to up the scare factor, especially when there was someone new present.

“Now as I said it was a dark and stormy night when one of our older Research and Development technicians named Otto Kramer was working in the labs late at night on All Hallow’s Eve. He’d been perfecting a formula that would enable a person to become invisible when there was a loud…

 _“_ **_BOOM!”_ **

The women shrieked when he did that, and giggled nervously.

“There was an explosion in the lab, killing Otto but..”

As if on cue the lights suddenly went out and the women panicked.

“It’s okay ladies, the emergency lights should come on shortly, just relax; you’re with me,” he crooned.

It seemed like an eternity before the emergency lights popped on, bathing everything in an eerie red glow.

“Now back to the story…”

“Napoleon maybe you should forget the story and go check on why the lights went out,” Caroline suggested.

“That won’t be necessary, there’s plenty of staff in Security to investigate. As senior agent in charge they’ll let me know if there’s a problem. Now where was I...oh yes, Otto Kramer was killed in an explosion in the lab but for some reason his head was missing, completely disappeared, only his body was found crumpled on the floor. Now every Halloween his spirit appears, well just his head actually, perhaps in search of the rest of his body. Apparently his invisibility formula may have worked only on his head you see.”

“That’s not very scary!” The girls laughed.

“Then you better look behind you,”Napoleon smiled mischievously.

There, coming closer and closer to them was a head. White haired with a maniacal grin and a rather large nose. His eyes seemed filled with insanity. The head grew larger and larger as it came towards them.

The women screamed, dashing for the door, leaving poor Caroline standing there in shock. 

The face suddenly disappeared and Solo wrapped his arms around the girl, comforting her.

“It’s okay honey, it’s all gone, it’s all over. You’re safe with me.” He stroked her dark hair, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

She continued to shake as she whispered,”I think I need a drink.”

“Come on with me to my office, I keep a bottle of scotch there for ...medicinal purposes.”

“All right, if you don’t mind?” She batted her eyelashes at him and throwing back her shoulders, she forced her breasts forward, showing a bit of cleavage through the unbuttoned top of her pink cardigan sweater.

Napoleon smiled, wondering if he was the one doing the manipulating or not. It just seemed too good to be true.

He pulled her close to him and taking a chance, he kissed her, and she returned his embrace wholeheartedly.

The lights returned just as Napoleon and Caroline walked out into the empty corridor and as they turned the corner Illya appeared.

“Excuse me Caroline, stay right here while I have a word with Mister Kuryakin.” 

“I appreciated the assist with the ladies. You did a nice job with those special effect tovarisch, I had them eating out of the palm of my hand but when that head appeared it did the trick.”

“What head? Napoleon I did nothing as the power went out. I was stuck in the elevator. There was an apparent lightning strike that caused a power surge.”

“You’re kidding me right?”

“Napoleon I am not joking. What head are you talking about... _Otto Kramer_?”

“Well we never did find his head.”

“What exactly happened,” Illya asked whispered.

“ A head appeared just as I finished telling the ladies about Otto’s accident.”

 _“Tsk,_ ” the Russian shook his head,”It had to be the power of suggestion and the play of the emergency lights. You will not convince me that the ghostly head of Otto Kramer appeared just when you needed it...you and your stories are just meant to entice the ladies into you libidinous spider’s web.”

“Shush, not so loud. I don’t want Caroline to hear...understand? She needs some comforting and I'm the man to offer it, that and some scotch."

“Ohhh, Napoleon again?”Illya stopped himself. He should have known  better by now as when it came to women his partner was quite predictable, especially around Halloween. "Are you not concerned about what happened?"

“Yes and no. Please stay away from our office for a while if you don't mind,” Napoleon asked.

“Come on Caroline, “Napoleon wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her down the corridor towards his office, where the sofa was extra wide and just perfect for what he and what he suspected Caroline had in mind.

This would be a Happy Halloween after all. He'd worry about Otto's head tomorrow...


	3. Anything's possible

The prompt:

 

They approached their destination as it finally appeared through the dense cloud cover. Located high atop a cliff, it was an old two story Victorian house perched in precarious position on the edge of precipice.

Their only means of getting there was climbing a series of stairs cut into the cliff face but where that wasn’t possible a metal staircase had been installed.  


“Who in their right mind would put a house in such a precarious spot...that is of course a rhetorical question,” Illya commented.

“Definitely one who thinks outside the box,”Napoleon replied. “And how the heck did they get the materials up here to even build it….wait, helicopter? Then again this house looks pretty old for that to have been…”

“ _Stoi_...stop,” Illya said. “Do you hear it?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“It is a pulse.” Kuryakin looked up at the clouds level with the house. “See there; sound waves. The clouds are reverberating with them. This has to be the source from which they are emanating and disrupting air traffic.”

Napoleon studied the phenomenon; he wasn’t feeling the pulse as Illya called it, but he was definitely seeing it. The clouds were rippling...no, undulating.

They continued climbing the stairs until they arrived at the entrance to the house that was carved into the rock beneath it.

As they opened heavy arched wooden door it moaned as if it hadn’t been opened in a long time.

There was nothing but darkness and both agents lit the small hand torches they carried to light the way.  

Instead of stairs they found what could only be described as basement carved out of the bedrock.

It was filled with all sorts of object with spiderwebs, looking long abandoned/

Oddly there was a harp with a carved angel’s head, a stuffed polar bear standing menacingly in a corner, a mummy’s sarcophagus...which made Kuryakin cringe.

“Do not say a word,” he cautioned with a wagging finger. He’d been the victim of mummification three times so far and wanted to put some space between himself and the ancient Egyptian artifact.

Embedded in the wall was the blade of a Japanese katana, though it looked as though it had not been put there, it looked as though the wall had been put around it…”how was that possible?” Illya wondered.

There were dozens of objects from different time periods scattered everywhere. Half a painting that resembled and early version of the Mona Lisa was sunken half-way into the wall as well.

Napoleon called out; he’d had found a spiral staircase leading up to the house.

Once inside, they found it seemingly abandoned as well; the furnishings were covered in dust and cobwebs. Candelabras were everywhere, and were apparently the only source of light...no electricity.

Illya drew a small box of wooden matches from his pocket and proceeded to light a few of the candles.

Once there was some semblance of light Napoleon could see the look on his partner’s face; Illya was wincing over and over.

“What’s wrong tovarisch?”

“The pulse is getting louder and it is becoming painful. You still do not feel it?”

“No, but I’ll take your word for it. Maybe you should go back outside.”

“No, I will not leave you. No pun intended but this place is giving me bad vibes beyond the pulsating.”

“It’s up to you then,” Napoleon said.” Let’s do a quick search and get you out of here.”

“You will get no argument from me,” Illya’s blue eyes blinked slowly.

Napoleon didn’t want to admit it but he was finally feeling something as well; his heart was pounding as was his head and there was a tingling sensation all over his body that made his skin crawl.

As the agents went from room to room they found nothing of interest other than more object from different time periods. It was as if someone had raided museums willy nilly and simply left everything here.

It wasn’t until they reached the attic where they found something of true interest.

Sitting on a table was an orb around the size of a bowling ball; like the sound waves Illya was sensing, it too was pulsating revealing octagonal and triangular shapes in pink, purple, black and white.

  


Its effects were intense, so much so that Kuryakin grabbed his head and started to stagger before screaming in pain.

Napoleon grabbed him, supporting Illya to keep him from going down. Without thinking he instinctively drew his gun and fired at the orb.

It shattered into thousands of tiny glistening pieces that shot up into the air.

A black hole appeared above their heads and the pieces of the orb as well as other objects were being sucked up into it.

Napoleon dragged Illya down the stairs; they had to get out, that much he knew.

Once away from the attic Illya finally regained his wits and was able to move on his own.

“The back door! Is closer!” He shouted as he looked up, seeing everything above them was being sucked into darkness.

The aged wooden door at the end of a hall was jammed, but together they decided to body slam it.

“One-two-three!” Napoleon shouted above the din of the disintegrating house.

The door gave way and they landed on the ground outside, though there wasn't much.

They scrambled, backing away from the house and watched in disbelief as was sucked upwards piece by piece until it disappeared into the black hole. Then the hole itself was gone with a ‘pop.’ There was nothing left to indicate the house had ever been there.

As Napoleon and Illya looked over the edge of the cliff they discovered that even the stairs had disappeared.

They remained silent while trying to digest what had just happened.

It was no surprise the Russian was the first to finally speak.

“That object in the house, whatever it was, was causing the disruptive sound waves.”

“Yes I got that,” Napoleon said.”But what happened to the house?”

“I think we may have just witnessed an interdimensional rift.”

“A what?” Napoleon screwed up his face.

“This is purely theoretical and very new mind you; an interdimensional rift is a phenomenon which can allow for transit to realms outside of the normal spacetime continuum. Quantum singularities theoretically can be used as interdimensional rifts in order to gain access to fluidic space. The destruction of the orb caused the house to be pulled to another dimension...I think.”

“Will it come back?”

“Napoleon I am making a supposion based on a theory, so I have no idea if it will return or not. My current concern is based on reality not theory at the moment, and that is how we are going to get down from this place since the stairs are gone? That cliff face is not climbable."

“I think I can manage a solution, something a bit more conventional as a means of transportation.”

Napoleon drew his communicator from his inside jacket pocket

“Open Channel D please.”

“Yes Mister Solo,” Waverly responded.” What have you discovered?”

“Sir it’s complicated and I think it’s best Mr. Kuryakin handles the report on this one as it’s going to be a bit on the technical side. I can however, report that whatever was causing the air traffic disruptions is now gone.”

“Well done gentlemen. I look forward to reading Mister Kuryakin’s report.”

“One more thing sir…”

“Yes Mister Solo?”

“We have need transportation, a helicopter to be precise.”

There was a definite huff followed by silence.

“Please tell me you did not destroy another car?”

“No, the car is fine sir, it’s just that we’re stranded on top of a cliff with no way down."

“Oh, in that case I will have a helicopter dispatched immediately. Keep your communicator open so the pilot can zero in on your location. It will take some time to get there so I suggest you relax...you are unhurt I take it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Waverly out.”

Illya was still quiet as he perched like a crouching gargoyle near the edge of the cliff.

“You okay tovarisch?”

“Fine, just a headache and I am hungry.”

Napoleon reached into his pocket, “how about a peppermint?”

“Yes, thank you,” Illya accepted the red and white swirled candy; quickly unwrapping it, he popped it into his mouth. “It is All Hallow’s Eve is it not?”

“You know it is; I'd forgotten about it,” Napoleon hadn’t even thought of it until Illya reminded him. “It’s when the walls between our world and the spirit world became thin enough to allow ghosts to pass through for the night. Gee I wonder if that’s what happened here and not that rift thing?”

Illya slowly turned his head and for one brief second he gave Solo the stink eye, before he began to laugh.

“At this point my friend, anything is possible, that much I have learned after the many bizarre events we have witnessed.”

Napoleon raised his hands up above his head, looking upwards to the heavens.

“Finally!”

  



	4. A little too much scotch, perhaps?

The prompt:

 

It was a dark and stormy night, literally not figuratively like the way Napoleon Solo always started his spooky  Halloween stories. His sole purpose was to frighten the ladies at headquarters and usually one of them would end up going home with him at the end of her shift.

At the moment Solo and his partner were parked in front of the Poor Clares Monastery. The storm was so violent that it prompted the agents to seek refuge, in hopes the nuns would be charitable and give them a dry place to sleep for the night.

The monastery was built like a fort with an outer wall and a heavy iron gate that was secured with an immense padlock.

Napoleon pulled a cord that would ring a bell inside, alerting the sisters to the presence of visitors.

A few minutes passed and a dark figure appeared beneath a black umbrella.

“May I help you gentlemen?”

“Please Sister. My name is Napoleon Solo and this is my friend Illya Kuryakin; we are two weary travelers in need of shelter from the storm. Could you help us?”

“Are you Catholic Mister Solo?”

“Yes Sister I am.”

“And you Mister Kuryakin?”

“Umm...Russian Orthodox.” He quickly decided that would go over better than saying he was an atheist.

The nun smiled as she undid the lock.

”Close enough, you’re lucky we’re not cloistered. I’m the Reverend Mother Mary Eulogia. If you would follow me this way gentlemen, we’ll get you some dry clothing  and make sleeping arrangements. You’ve arrived just in time for dinner. I hope you’re hungry? Sister Mary Antoine has prepared lamb with roasted vegetables and baked potatoes.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose Reverend Mother,”Napoleon said.

“It’s not an imposition, you are weary travelers on a stormy night and we would of course feed you and give you shelter.”

“Sounds delicious, thank you,” Illya replied. From the corner of his eye he could see his partner rolling his eyes.

Once inside a young novice dressed in a white habit and veil appeared with coarse white towels. She carried a lantern to light her way. Eyeing the visitors, she said she’d be back with clothing for them.

Dangling from her neck was a small glass bottle filled with a clear liquid, which Napoleon assumed was holy water. He’d never seen a nun wearing anything like that, much less a novice; having been raised Catholic, he’s seen many’s the ‘penguin’ as he called them since he was a kid in school. He even had a childhood friend who’d become a nun.

“Thank you Sister..?” He asked.

"Mary Lucretia, Sister Mary Lucretia though I’m a novitiate.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for the towels,” Napoleon flashed one of his charming smiles at her, making her blush.

“ _Napoleon,_ ” Illya hissed under his breath, cautioning his partner.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You do not even know when you are doing it then.”

“Illya I wasn’t flirting,” Solo whispered as they were led to their room.  “Can’t a guy just smile at someone?”

It was spartan but looked comfortable enough; there were twin beds, nightstands with reading lamps, two dressers, and table with two wooden chairs.

Covering the floor was a warn rug that looked like it still had plenty of life in it.

None of the furnishing matched as they were no doubt donated, still it was all made of the same dark color wood.

Against the wall opposite the beds was a It is a small, ornamental kneeler and set on it was a small bible, ready for devotions and prayers. On the wall in front of it was a large carved crucifix.

“Cheerful,” Napoleon commented.

“Nicer than our usual hotel accommodations,” Illya replied.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,”Solo called.

It was Sister Mary Lucretia with their clothing.

“I hope these will do gentlemen. They belong to some of the priests who sometimes stay here. I don’t think they’ll mind loaning them to you.”

She handed them black trousers, and black long sleeve shirts, sans the priests collars.

“Thank you sister they’ll be fine,” Napoleon was careful not to smile at her this time.

“Leave your wet clothes on the chairs here and someone will take them to be cleaned and pressed for you. Dinner will be in fifteen minutes.”

“And where will be be eating?”Illya asked.

“Just go down the hall to left and follow your nose.” She gave the side of her nose a double tap with her index finger.

After changing the agents arrived at a small dining room and there they were introduced to Father Wilhelm and a much younger priest named Father Alphonso who were also guests at the monastery.

Everyone remained standing until the Reverend Mother entered the room. Once she was seated, everyone followed suit.

“Mister Solo, Mister Kuryakin I presume you have been introduced to the Fathers, let me introduce the rest of the Sisters to you.”

Going in order along the long dining table she named each nun; Sister Mary Alvin, Sister Mary Martha, Sister Mary Benita, Sister Mary Carmella, Sister Mary Catherine, Sister Mary Felician, Sister Mary Lumena, Sister Mary Maurelian, Sister Mary Peregrine, and Sister Mary Lucretia you’ve already met, and lastly this is Sister Mary Antoine who prepared this evening’s meal.”

Mary Antoine was an older woman, but bright eyed and quick to smile as she nodded to their guests. The rest of the nuns seemed a bit on the dark and somber side except for the Reverend Mother and Mary Lucretia.

“Ladies...I mean, Sisters,” Napoleon acknowledged them once the introductions were done; Illya remained silent and simply nodded.

“Father Wilhelm if you would please say grace?” The Reverend Mother asked.

“Certainly,” the white haired priest replied. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Bless us Oh Lord and these thy gifts which we are about to receive through thy bounty through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Napoleon blessed himself along with the Sisters as he bowed his head in prayer, Illya on the other hand said and did nothing.

There was little discussion at the table before everyone had a chance to eat. Illya broke the ice, first complimenting Sister Mary Antoine on her culinary skills and then asking why all of the Sisters had their names prefixed by the name Mary.”

“Devotion to the Mother of God,” the Reverend Mother said,” has always been dear to religious persons, but as this congregation is immediately under her protection and as she is (under God) its principal protectress, the sisters shall always have the warmest and most affectionate devotion to her. We regard her in a special manner as our Mother and the great model we are obliged to imitate, that by her intercession and under her powerful protection we may be enabled to fulfill the obligations of this holy Institute and implant Jesus Christ in the hearts of those with whom we come in contact. There are a few sisters who have Marie or Margaret incorporated into their religious names, as those are a form of Mary but Sister Marie Teresa and Sister Margaret Jerome are away from the monastery at the moment.”

Illya nodded. “Thank you Reverend Mother for the explanation.”

Even Kuryakin knew when to keep his mouth shut as he suspected the Reverend Mother was a force to be reckoned with.

“And what line of business may I ask with which you gentlemen are engaged?” Father Wilhelm asked.

“We sell novelties, trinkets,” Napoleon stuck with their standard cover story.

“Ahhh, the proverbial traveling salesmen,” the priest laughed.

Other than that there was no further conversation at the table until the Reverend Mother made an announcement as to there being evening prayers before everyone would retreat to their cubicles.

Napoleon and Illya declined to participate saying they were exhausted from their travels and would need to be up for an early start in the morning.

There were no judgements on the part of the clergy as the two men were their guests for the evening. Sister Mary Antoine approached the agents just before leaving for prayers and drew something from beneath the apron she wore.

“Something to warm you tonight as I fear our guest rooms are not as cozy as you might think.

She handed Napoleon a bottle of scotch, not the best but it was a welcome gesture.

“Thank you Sister,” he winked. “It’ll be our little secret. Good night.”

“Sleep well gentlemen.”

When they returned to their room they found flannel pajamas laid out for them. On the table was a plain brown paper bag containing new toothbrushes, soap, and other toiletries as well as shaving paraphernalia.

“I’m impressed,” Napoleon said after peeking into the bag. “This is better than if we stayed in a hotel.”

“Accounting will be pleased that we saved them money, though perhaps we should make a small donation to the Sisters before we leave?”

“You really are a smart Russian,”  Napoleon headed to the bathroom first.  When he came out Illya was already in bed fast asleep. The scotch was untouched.

“More for me,” Napoleon whispered. He poured himself a drink, downed it and followed it with two more. That made him feel all warm and fuzzy as he climbed into bed, though out of habit he tucked his gun beneath the pillow before he cocooned  himself in his blanket.

The wind was whistling outside as the rain pounded against the small stained glass window above their beds.

Both men woke with a start as there was a blood curdling scream in middle of the night.

They jumped from their beds, each with their gun in hand and headed out into the corridor.

There was another scream and they ran barefooted towards it.  

The agents found themselves in front of a large wooden door and on the other side of it the screams continued, this time followed by a string of epithets.

They heard the voices of the priests droning a prayer in Latin.

“Illya, they’re performing an exorcism,” Napoleon whispered.

“Which is none of our business,” the Russian replied. “I think we should return to our room and let them go about their work. Ridiculous though it may be.”

Napoleon sighed...he’d never witnessed an exorcism as they were rituals the church kept under wraps and were performed only by priests, but not without being sanctioned by a bishop. Still his partner was at least partly right, it wasn’t any of their concern.

They went back to bed, but they were woken not long after by a rapping at their door.

Napoleon rose, barely opening the door; it was the Reverend Mother.

“Mister Solo, sorry to disturb you. No doubt you have heard some screaming going on...we need your help as Father Wilhelm has taken ill.”

“What sort of help?”

“Father Alphonse is in need of some very strong hands.”

“We heard what was going on Mother, a ritual of exorcism was being performed. Illya and I decided it was none of our business.”

“Usually I would agree but Father Alphonso is young and not strong enough to complete the ritual on his own. The Sisters and I are forbidden to take part in such an undertaking. Only a priest may do so.”

“Mother...Illya and I aren’t priests.”

“Of course I know that, but Father Alphonso has need of your physical strength as the ummm...demon being exorcised is quite strong.”

“I understand now, would you give us a few minutes to get dressed? I should tell you that Illya and I are not actually travelling salesmen; we are agents with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement?”

“The U.N.C.L.E.; I have heard of this organization. All the better that you are men of principle who fight on the side of right. Father Alphonse will need such conviction.”

Napoleon closed the door, rousing his partner from a deep sleep.

“What is going on?” Illya rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His hair was a mess, sticking up in spikes as he must have tossed and turned in his sleep.

“Illya, partner mine, we are going to assist in an exorcism.”

“You have got to be kidding? I do not believe in such ritualistic nonsense.”

“Father Wilhelm has been taking ill and Father Alphonse doesn’t need you to believe, but he does need our muscles to help him.”

They followed the Reverend Mother to the room where they’d previously heard what was going on; she knocked on the door, calling to the priest.

“Father, the gentlemen are here to help.”

 

The door opened with a slow creak as the agents stepped inside and the Reverend Mother left. She could not be privy to the goings on in that room.

There they immediately saw a dark haired young man laying in a bed, his hands and feet tied to the bedposts. Hanging partly over him from the wall was a large mirror.

“Thank you for coming,” Father Alphonse said. He whispered to them, not wanting the boy to hear.

“I’ll need you to help me hold him down while I pray and sprinkle holy water, even though he’s tied. Do not speak to him, do not look into his eyes. The demon possessing this child is very strong.”

“All right Father,” Napoleon nodded as did Kuryakin.

It wasn’t until they moved closer that they could see the boys face was grotesque and covered in sores, his lips were parched and cracked in a maniacal grin. He spat and curse in a strange language as they approached him.

Illya took hold of the arms and upper torso, Napoleon held down the legs as Father Alphonse began to pray.

_“Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei  Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus (X) Sancti, ut descedas ab hoc plasmate Dei, quod Dominus noster ad templum sanctum suum vocare dignatus est, ut fiat templum Dei vivi, et Spiritus Sanctus habitet in eo. Per eundem Christum Dominum nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem.”_

_(Exorcise every unclean spirit, in the name of God the Father and in the name of Jesus  Christ His Son, our Lord and Judge, and the power continues, descends from this creature of God that our Lord to his temple call is deemed to be the temple of God, and the holy Spirit to dwell in it. Through Christ, our Lord, who shall come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire)_

Father Alphonse made the sign of the cross using an aspergillum to sprinkle holy water on the boy.

There was an inhuman scream and the boy’s body shot into the air as a barely perceptible black mist emanated from his mouth. There was immense burst of energy and all three men were knocked to the floor by it.

Napoleon was the first to stand at the right side of the bed, Alphonse was to the left of it.

“Praise God!” The priest shouted. “It’s over! He’s free of it!”

Simon's face had returned to normal and he stared up at the priest in confusion. “Father Alphonse, what are you doing here?”

Suddenly there was a maniacal laugh from behind Napoleon, and turning to it he and the others saw Illya levitating up from the floor, his arms were raised, arched as they spread out on either side. His face was ashen and contorted, his eyes black as coal. The shirt he wore had been ripped open and on his chest in red raised welts was the number ‘666.’ The mark of the devil.

“Oh God no!” Alphonse cried out. “The demon was supposed to go into the mirror! Your friend must have looked into Simon’s eyes. Hold him down!”

Napoleon grabbed his partner by the ankles, trying to lower him.

Illya shouted at him, cursing in Russian and other languages. Filth spewed forth from Illya’s mouth. It wasn’t Kuryakin’s voice, but rather something deep and raspy.

“Don’t listen to him!” The priest cried out.

“You belong here with me Napoleon, you a murderer, a defiler of women...lust, pride envy, greed, wrath be yours. Give yourself to the great dragon and I will free your friend!"

“Hold onto him Napoleon, you have a bond of friendship and love that will save him!” The priest called before beginning the prayer of exorcism. “Turn him towards the mirror behind him!”

There was another smaller mirror on the wall and Napoleon, despite Illya’s strength, managed to do as the priest asked.

Father Alphonse shouted the prayers again in Latin and as Illya faced the mirror, his face was filled with panic.

As the holy water hit his body, Kuryakin’s body became a dark insubstantial mass and shot upwards through the ceiling.

Napoleon was aghast; his partner was gone...where, he had no idea. It seemed incomprehensible that Illya had been taken by a demon. He’d been taught such things as a child, but never really believed they were possible.

“I’m so sorry Napoleon, I wasn’t strong enough,” the priest sat on the edge of the bed, untying Simon who was frightened out of his wits.

When Napoleon awoke the next morning sunbeams were shining through the stained glass window, bathing the room in a myriad of colors.

He looked across to Illya’s bed, seeing it empty, though he still asked himself if it had really happened. It must have since his partner was gone.

Napoleon sat up, hearing the toilet flush, a moment later the bathroom door opened and Kuryakin emerged. Illya had a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, and tried to speak.

“You needa get up sleepy heb.”

“Illya! Is it really you? Are you all right?” Solo blurted out, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Of course it is me and I am fine. The question should be how are you?” He held up the bottle of scotch that was nearly empty.

“I saw you possessed by a demon!”

“Napoleon I think you drank a bit too much last night, and the power of suggestion after you said the priests were performing an exorcism has played tricks on your mind.”

Solo closed his eyes as his head was pounding. “Did he dream it?”

“You better get up if you want breakfast, the Sisters will not hold it for us,” Illya cautioned.

He unbuttoned his pajama shirt, scratching his chest as there were the remnants of some strange welts on his skin...bed bugs he ventured a guess.

 


	5. A real hot number!

The prompt:  


 

Napoleon was nowhere to be found and that was making the usually cool and calm Russian a bit nervous.

The last he’s seen his partner was in the lobby of their hotel where the American was cuddling up to a dark haired exotic looking seductress. Solo wasn't in their hotel room, he wasn't in the bar or the restaurant. He wouldn't have left the hotel without saying a word.

 

Illya snapped his fingers, finally realizing where his partner; he had to be with her.

He approached the desk clerk who was dressed in a grey and red uniform with double rows of brass buttons on the jacket. He was standing there pretending to look busy. He wore a little pillbox hat on his head and his bushy muttonchop sideburns made Kuryakin chuckle to himself and the thought the man resembled a capuchin monkey.

“Excuse me sir. There was a woman here earlier, long dark hair, ruby red lips, her eyes were violet. She was dressed in a voluminous black gown and looked like she was at some sort of costume ball."

“Oh yeah who could forget her? She’s a real hot number. She was probably in town for the big Halloween costume bash in city hall."

“Is she staying here in the hotel?”

“Yep, she came in last night. She’s got a regular revolving door when it comes to men...lots of visitors. I have my suspicions she’s a hooker. She'd make a lot of money at the ball that's for sure. Hmmm, maybe I should get a piece of her action for not reporting her to the police."

“What room is she in, if I may ask?”  
“You got the hots for her, huh?”

“You might call it that.” Illya acted a bit shy.

“Five bucks,” the clerk held out his hand.

“For what?”

“The room number of course.”

Illya resigned himself to it and drew the money from his wallet, dangling the bill in front of the clerk.

He went to snatch it, but the Russian was too fast.

“First the room number my friend.”

“She’s in room 212A, it’s at the end of the hall, second floor."

“212A? Is that not a bit odd?” Illya asked as he hadn’t seen any other rooms with letters.

“They management didn’t want to have a room 213; people are too superstitious.”

“So it’s actually a thirteenth room?”

“You’re a sharp one Mister,” this time the clerk snatched the bill and tucked it into his pocket.

Illya took the elevator and quickly made his way to the end of the hall; pausing outside the door, he heard a snarling sound.

Not hesitating, he kicked in the door and there he saw Solo lying prone on the floor, completely naked. He was pale, most likely because his neck and chest were covered with blood.

The dark haired woman was nude as well, and was straddling him. She looked up with a hiss, baring her fangs as she looked at Illya.

“Wait your turn!” She laughed, licking the blood from her voluptuous lips.

Kuryakin recognized her for what she was, Nosferatu... _vampyre._

He grabbed a nearby wooden chair and smashing it on the floor, he picked up a splintered leg. There was only one way to get rid of such a creature, and that was a stake through the heart...after which it should be decapitated, or so he’d read. Information from the novel by Bram Stoker was coming in handy.

She snarled, howling like a cat, and moved like a spider crawling backwards up the wall and to the ceiling.

Illya prepared himself for her assault; she dove at him, her fanged mouth opened wide and her clawed hands reaching for him.  He drove the stake into her as she landed on him, and she let out a shriek that nearly pierced his ears.

The creature's skin glowed red and poof, she was gone, leaving no sign she'd ever been there...so much for the need for decapitation.

Illya immediately knelt beside his partner and feeling for a pulse, he slapped Napoleon on the cheeks to bring him round.

“Wake up! You will not die!” Kuryakin shouted in desperation.

Solo’s eyes fluttered open. “Illya? What happened to the woman? We were just making love.”

“She was making love to your blood my friend.”  
  
He helped Napoleon sit up, and moved him to the bed, that was when Solo saw the blood on himself. His hand went instantly to the pain on the side of his throat and it came away bloodied.

Illya grabbed a pillowcase and had his partner hold it, putting pressure on the wound.

“What happened to me?”

“You were seduced by a vampyre my friend.”

“And here I thought I was the one doing the seducing. My God Illya the sex was incredible! I’ve never felt anything quite like it.”

“Napoleon, I swear a woman...in one shape or form will someday be the death of you!”

He chuckled, yeah tovarisch, but what a way to go!”  
  
"You are going to say that one too many times before it happens."Illya picked up his partner’s clothes and threw them at him.

“Get dressed! I must say again  you are incorrigible. You make a joke when you are nearly killed by a creature of the night..”

"Gee, where have I heard that word incorrigible before," Napoleon laughed. "Illya you can be a broken record sometimes. Hmmm, killed, which obviously I wasn't. Maybe she was going to make me her vampire lover?” Solo mused.

“Please tell me you did not taste of her blood?”

“Nooooo I did not _taste of her blood_ ,” Napoleon did a fair imitation of the Russian. “And since when are you, a naysayer when it comes to all things supernatural, an expert on vampires?”

“I read…”

“Oh, how could I have forgotten that,” Napoleon slipped into his boxers followed by his trousers. He went into the bathroom to wash his neck and chest before putting on his shirt, tie and suit jacket.

Illya went to the closet, intending to deposit the pieces of the chair there, but when he opened the door three bodies toppled forward one by one, each landing with a thud. They had all been exsanguinated and there was no knowing if they had tasted her blood, and were vampyres ready to rise from the dead.

“Napoleon, I am going to need your help...” he gathered more stakes from the remainder of the chair.

 

 

A little vampire mask music: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUNOfNad59Q&frags=pl%2Cwn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUNOfNad59Q&frags=pl%2Cwn)

 


	6. Leofdaeg

The prompt:

Napoleon, Illya and April Dancer carefully walked down into the depths of the sloping tunnel.

A few spots were easily passable with steps carved into the floor. The farther they walked the more they realized what an amazing engineering feat this was.

It had been carefully chiseled, the walls and the low arched ceiling must have taken years to create.

Napoleon likened it to the carving of the pyramids, and Illya immediately took umbrage.

“Please do not bring up pyramids or mummies to me for that matter.”

“That’s right Illya,” April giggled,”And how many times were you wrapped up like a mummy.”

“Not funny.”

“Don’t go there April, our Russian is a bit touchy on the subject.”

“I think it’s rather funny, only since it’s happened to you what...three times? Are you like some sort of mummy magnet?” April laughed again.

Even Napoleon chuckled at that remark.

“You two should remember that revenge is a dish best served cold?” *

“Oh I’m shaking in my go-go boots,” April giggled. “Now to get off that topic, this place kind of remind me of the Erdstall Tunnels of Europe.”

“I agree April,” Illya said.”though at present no one is entirely certain as to why they were created in the first place. Some advocate the idea that the erdstalls date to the Stone Age and are of the opinion that these structures are a network of subterranean passages that stretched from Scotland all the way to Turkey…”

“Quiet you two,” Napoleon whispered. “Hear that?

There was a soft voice echoing farther down the tunnel which was becoming quite damp and the walls were now slimey.

The agents were there to verify reports of something strange going on in this particular tunnel to nowhere. They had no details, and had just been reported to look into it. There was no village or hamlet within miles so as to who could it have been that claimed something strange was going on was also a mystery.

Finally a warm glow appeared farther down the tunnel and they could smell a fire burning.

It was at that moment all three agents automatically drew their weapons and endeavored not to make a sound as they moved forward.

As they came to a what resembled an entryway, they found themselves in a small cavern.

There was a roaring fire in a fireplace, though when they were up above there were no signs of smoke venting into the air from the hill above the tunnel. Seated at a table was a leathery looking man...well, man was a term one would use rather loosely.

Whatever it was, it was hairless, its skin was a combination of beige and red, there seemed to be no nose, and its eye sockets were empty. It had a fishlike mouth, with no lips and it what looked like small fins on its forearms.

Had they just found a monster, a cousin to the Creature from the Black Lagoon?

It slowly raised its hands, with very elongated fingers and when its the hands reached up to its face, palms outward, an eye opened in the middle of each of its palms.

“Grrrrreetings, and welcome,” it spoke English with a voice was deep and guttural.

“Ummm no, sorry,” Napoleon answered.

“Who or rather what are you?”Illya asked.

“Pity. Have you no mannerrrs? Since you arrre visiting me should you not be the ones to intrrrroduce yourselves. I howeverrr will begin. The name last given to me is Leofdaeg, though I have had many names throughout my life. This name was given to me by a young boy called Hrrrroldulf who befrrriended me and would visit me. Sadly he grew old as yourrr kind does and I have not had many visitorrrrs since my frrriend surely died. I do miss having tea and porrrrridge with him as well as the converrrsation.”

Solo’s eyebrows raised as he was completely taken aback by the civility of the creature. It was well spoken, though it rolled its “R’s. It seemed quite intelligent.

Carved into another wall were nooks, stacked neatly within them were hardcover books. Beowulf, Frankenstein, Dracula, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Count of Monte Cristo as well as other titles all written in the 1800’s.

“My apologies Leofdaeg; my name is Napoleon, this gentleman is Illya and the lady is called April.”

“I am ever so pleased to make yourrr acquaintances. Might you all join me for a cup of fish broth? “

“No thank you,” April said. “Leofdaeg, do you ever leave this place?”

“No, I do not belong up there in your world, most humans would not understand that I would do them no harm unlike the monster in the book Frankenstein.”

“How long have you been here?” Napoleon asked.

“I rrrememberrr a time when yourrr kind wore furrrs and carrried clubs, some of you worrrshipped me as a sorrt of deity. I trrried to tell them I was not a god.”

“What are you then?” Illya repeated his question.

“I am...me. That is all I can say.”

“What do you do for food?” April asked.

“Farrrther down the next tunnel is an underrrground strrream from which I catch fish. I use coal that is deeper still forrr my firrre.”

“You like to read,” she admired the books, running her fingers along the bindings. They were quite old and the pages yellowed. “Did someone bring these to you?”

“Yes, I like to read verrrry much so Miss April, though these books I have rrrread thrrrrough many times.”

“Are there more like you?” She asked.

“I have neverrr met anyone like me; therrrre have only been a few of yourrrr kind who have befrrrended me and swore to keep me and this place secrrret.”

“Would you excuse us a moment,” Napoleon finally said.

He gathered Illya and April together and whispered to them.  
  
“I don’t know about you, but this...thing seems harmless enough. I’m wondering if he’s some sort of missing link, or a mutated human being.”

“We should bring him back with us, where he can be studied and cared for,” Illya said.

“Oh noooo,”April said.”We’re not taking him anywhere where he’ll be poked, prodded and put into a fishbowl. Think about how you’d feel if you were put in the same position?

Napoleon and Illya both looked rather guilty once hearing that.

“What would you like us to do April, just forget he’s here?” Solo asked.

“Yes and no. I say we go back, get him some supplies... food, candles, books and new blankets...the one on his bed is threadbare.”

“Sounds fair,” Napoleon said. “Illya you go get whatever you think he could use; April and I will stay here and speak with him some more.”

Once Kuryakin left, Napoleon and April sat with Leofdaeg, making small talk while trying to figure out the last time he had been visited by his friend Hroldulf. Both that name and Leofdaeg were Old English names, so that put things into some perspective.

“Was there anyone else after Hroldulf who visited you?” Napoleon asked.

“Therrre was a young man named Blackwood but he only came a few times, sometimes to bring me mutton, or salmon and porrridge. He said he was poor writer, and could not bring much, though I was grateful for anything.

He was afrrraid someone was following him, so he stopped coming. The young man was a very nice human, but he had much fearrr in him. He was obsessed with something called ghosts.”

“Surely not fear of you Leo...may I call you Leo? You seem so gentle,” April asked, “It’s just a short form of your name, what we call a nickname.”

“Leo, that pleases me and is easierrr to say. Is that the purrrpose of a ...nickname?”

“Yes. Leo when you said fear, surely it wasn’t  of you. The shepherd boy was afraid for you perhaps?”

“Yes, that is how it was.”

It was amazing to watch Leo move his hands, and how expressive his eyes were. It took a bit to get used to them being in the middle of his palms.  His movement was slow and fluid as if he were swimming underwater.

Illya finally returned with a massive supply of tea, sardines, a variety of foods in tins (as well as an opener) boxes of porridge, three thick blankets, a pillow, a large box of candles, as well as boxes of wooden matches.

He also brought cooking pots, bowls, utensils and a collection of books that included _The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Old Man and the Sea, The Lord of the Flies, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Invisible Man and The Once and Future King, The Borrowers_ and many more. He endeavored to find books that were more fantasy and not about humans per se, such as the angry villagers in Frankenstein and Dracula.

It took several trips but the last thing Kuryakin brought down was an old phonograph, the kind with a hand crank, as well as a collection of record albums that included many classical composers, as well as rock and roll.

Leofdaeg wept, tears ran down his palms when he heard music for the first time as well as when he realized how much supplies had been brought for him.

“Thank you my frrriends, if I may call you that?”

“Most certainly,” April smiled.

“Will you be able to visit me? Company would be most welcome.”

“We’re not from here,” Napoleon said, but I think we can arrange for someone to visit you and bring you supplies when you need them.”

“Leofdaeg, do you play the game known as chess?”Illya asked.

“No I do not; what is it this game of chess?”

“It is a board game of strategic skill for two players, Each player begins the game with sixteen pieces that are moved and used to capture opposing pieces according to precise rules. The object is to put the opponent's king under a direct attack from which escape is impossible, known as checkmate. When that is achieved, the game is won.”

“It sounds marrrvelous. I would like to learrrn this game.Will you teach it to me?”

“I’m afraid I did not bring a chess board and pieces but I will be sure to tell the person who next visits you to bring one as well as a book of rules and strategies.”

“I cannot thank you enough forrr yourrr generrrosity my frrriends. I do hope to see you again someday. I am grrrateful that you arrre keeping my existence a secrrret.

“It’s time for us to say goodbye Leo,” Napoleon nodded. “We’ll have someone visit you in no more than a month’s time, or perhaps sooner. I promise.”

Illya and April said their goodbyes as well, and as they headed up the tunnel they could hear the strains of Beethoven’s symphony No. 6 echoing.

The closer the got to the surface, the music became more and more distance until there was no sound of it at all.

Once outside, the agents got into their car and headed to the local U.N.C.L.E. field office.  There they made arrangements for the entrance to the tunnel to be kept under surveillance. Signs put up stating no trespassing as well as indicating there was a danger of cave ins.

After interviewing several candidates they found the perfect person to visit Leo. He was a Section III agent Rolf Felton who had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, he was intelligent, talkative and loved chess.

He was what one might call the nerdy type and when the situation was explained to him, he showed not an ounce of hesitation in accepting the assignment.

Napoleon swore him to secrecy, and breaking that oath meant Rolf would be locked up in Tartarus, the UNCLE prison located in Antarctica...this however, was a complete lie.

Solo, Kuryakin and Dancer felt that little fib wouldn’t hurt.

As far as their report to Mister Waverly, they’d say they found nothing. The only thing that would be dicey would be how to cover the expense for the supplies.

Napoleon decided it was a negligible amount that could be padded into their expense accounts...and that as they say was that.

“Funny how we were so quick to assume Leo was a monster that needed to be studied,”Napoleon said as he and his partner boarded their flight back to New York. April had left to join Mark Slate in Italy.”

“What is the saying about not judging a book by its cover,” Illya replied.

“In this case tovarisch it was apropos, but unfortunately we’ve run into far too many real life monsters about whom we couldn’t say the same.”

Illya folded his arms in front of his chest and closed his eyes. He’d seen far too many human monsters in his life...like the Nazis. He’d try not to dream of them...instead he plotted his revenge for the mummy nonsense.

One eye popped open. “When the stewardess comes by, order me a vodka please with a glass of ice? Actually, make it a double? I am going to take a nap until then.”

“Sweet dreams pal,” Napoleon said. He planned to have a couple of scotches himself. He still wasn’t completely settled about meeting Leo? What if he really was the missing link?”

“Thank you, Napoleon.” Illya was asleep within minutes.

 

 

*** Kuryakin’s revenge:**

Two mummies stood at attention in front of the decorated entrance to the Masque Club, drawing little attention from those entering the establishment for an U.N.C.L.E. Halloween party.

“April,” Napoleon’s muffled voice came through the linen wrappings,” You never should have made fun of Illya being mummified.”

“Hey, you were laughing too," she protested.

“Sorry, I guess it’s a case of guilt by association.”

“I can’t believe he did this to me! Hmm, he better watch out,” she swore,” revenge is a dish best served cold all right."

“I think Illya just proved that point my dear.”

 

 


	7. Trick or Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff to finish off my Seven Days of Halloween stories...

The prompt:

Everyone was looking forward to April Dancer’s annual Halloween party; it was the light at the end of a very unsuccessful week for Solo and Kuryakin as well as a number of other Section II agents, including the hostess.

It was if a dark cloud had been hanging over all their missions, making would should have been easy bit of work go completely sideways.

Dancer wasn’t going to let a little injury spoil her part as she looked forward to pulling out all the stops. She cooked as did a few of the other women, and even a couple of the men contributed, though their appetizers and desserts left a lot to be desired.

George Dennell brought brought a tray of ham and banana hollandaise.

 

April accepted it from him with what one could only call a fake smile; she buried it at the back of food table, hidden behind the punch bowl. Sitting next to it was an orange jello mold with bits of salad inside it.

 

There was something called a frosted ribbon loaf, and she had no idea who’d brought it or the jello mold.  Both somehow appeared on the table with a cards describing their contents...cream cheese frosting when sliced through reveals layers of ham and egg for the loaf. There was a tomato stuffed with something green, which was also the the garnish on top of the cream cheese.

April shuddered when she saw these contributions. She continued being a convivial hostess, though she was walking with a limp as she worked the room with trays of hors d'oeuvres.

She’d gone to a lot of trouble to make deviled eggs with little horns made of bits of pepperoni, small cocktail franks wrapped in dough to make them look like little mummies, Ritz crackers decorated with Snack Mate cheese in a spray can and decorated them with black olives that looked like bugs, green olives that were used as eyes. .

Everyone mingled, dressed in their costumes, Mark was dressed as a devil in a red cape and horns, and a lovely tail that he kept swinging around in his hand.  He was chatting up Wanda who was dressed as a mermaid. Her glistening green tail was attached to a wristlet, which was a very clever way to keep it out of harm’s way. No doubt Mark was enjoying the view as she’d had a brassiere made with large clamshells.

There were pirates, princesses, a Sherlock Holmes, a unicorn ...a costume worn by two Section III agents. It made it a little hard for them to get around or to eat and drink and they finally abandoned their costume in favor of being able to party.

The alcohol was flowing and there was plenty of flirting going on, usually after one of April’s parties a few lucky couples went home together.

Dancer, dressed in a cowgirl costume replete with cap guns in her two holsters suddenly realized two very important people were missing, Napoleon and Illya.

She, along with everyone else was looking forward to Illya’s trick that he always played on his partner while amazing everyone else. Whether is was smoke and mirrors, makeup, robotics or prestidigitation, the wily Russian managed to get Napoleon good every year.

As if on cue the doorbell rang. After opening the door, standing there was Illya dressed in his usual black suit and turtleneck , but covering his right eye was a black patch.

“Illya, what are you supposed to be? You don’t quite look like a pirate.” She asked he walked inside, handing her a bottle of vodka.

“I am me. There was a little accident in the lab...a spec of metal hit me in the eye and the doctor insisted I wear this patch for a few days. Since I was in medical I did not have time to plan a costume.”

“That’s a shame, no tricks this year?”

“Sorry, no,”he shrugged.” If you do not mind I need something to eat as they did not feed me while I was up in the Medical Suite.”

“Oh sure, go help yourself. Though there’s a couple of dishes I’d avoid like the jello mold, the ham and banana hollandaise and the ribbon loaf. They’re all pretty scary.”

“Is that not the point of Halloween?” He actually laughed.”Though compared to my week, none of that sounds very frightening. April, is Napoleon here?”

“No he’s not as far as I can tell, not an Emperor Bonaparte in sight.”

“That is odd, he said he was going to get here early; he wanted to start drinking right away. He is fairly...how you say, burned out?”

“You boys really did have a rough week didn’t you.”

“April my dear, that is an understatement if ever I have heard one,” Kuryakin nodded. “Now if you will excuse me, the food and a tumbler of cold vodka is calling to me.”

“Oh boy,”Dancer shook her head. She recalled the last party where Napoleon and Illya both got stinking drunk. Solo was so plastered he couldn’t mark an X in a box when she made them take a three question test for sobriety. He printed a barely visible X on the piece of paper, but nowhere near where he was supposed to have marked it.

Illya wasn’t that far behind him, though he insisted that no self-respecting Russian could be drunk on vodka.

She chuckled to herself knowing that wasn’t true at all…

Illya made a plate for himself, coleslaw, macaroni salad, potato salad for the sides. He spotted a tray of rare roast beef and put a heaping amount on a hard roll, slicing it in half.

He decided to hold of on the vodka and grabbed a bottle of beer. Walking over to an empty chair, one that seemed to be a new one, he sat down on it.

Illya felt it something move beneath his rump and rose up from the chair with a jerk that sent his plate of food went flying, most of it landing on Mark Slate’s head including a pair of deviled eggs the stuck to his horns.

Everyone burst out in drunken laughter, including the usually somber Russian. He turned back to the chair to see what had startled him.

Illya lifted the back and bottom cushions, and received an even bigger surprise.

“Hi there tovarisch,” Napoleon grinned. “Tricked you didn’t I?”

“Well done my friend, a brilliant costume and a nice change from your usual Napoleon Bonaparte attire I might add.”

The doorbell rang, and in walked Napoleon Solo dressed in his Emperor’s costume. “Sorry I’m late...where’s the scotch?”

Kuryakin did a double take, suddenly seeing that Napoleon was not in the chair and he was nowhere in sight. He walked up to the Emperor Napoleon and whispered.

“I know how you did it. You had someone made up to look like you, a doppelganger to be precise.  I know this to be true as I used the same trick myself last year with the werewolf costume.”

“You just think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Napoleon sneered.

“I am, as you have called me a ‘smart Russian’ many’s the time.”

Suddenly on of April's decorations at the dining table, three skeletons to be precise came to life. It was a pile of bones of  with a skeleton head wearing glasses that began to move. One by one the plastic bones slipped away to reveal Solo hidden beneath them.

“Hello there! Gee I must have fallen asleep. What did I miss?”

Illya stood there with his mouth open, as the Emperor Napoleon was now George Dennell...he still didn’t know who it was hidden in the chair.

Solo rose from the table and stretched, “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to use the bathroom.

A second later April’s door opened and in walked Napoleon Solo in a tux and red satin lined opera cape.

 

“ _Count Dracula_ has arrived,” Napoleon flashed his fangs as he did a Count Zark imitation, just before he rushing at Wanda.  _”I vant to drink your blood...bleh bleh-bleeeh!”_

She screamed aa he went for her neck, and everyone in the room burst out into a fit of laughter.

“Well tovarisch?” Solo removed his vampire fangs.

Illya smiled “I guess you finally have me, or do you?" He placed two fingers to his lips and made a loud whistle."On the count of three everyone. One-two-three!”

Those wearing full masks removed them, revealing Illya Kuryakin’s face. There were at least six of him now facing Splo.

“Wait..” Napoleon did a 360. "I’ll see and raise you pal.”  He snapped his fingers and disappeared. He was there one second, gone the next.

“I think he finally got you Illya,” April shoulder shoulder bumped the Russian.

“Perhaps so, but he is the one missing the party. Now if you will excuse me, I have another plate of food to make up and I think I will have that vodka now,” Kuryakin winked.

Once Illya got what he wanted he parked himself on April’s leather sofa and inhaled his food before anything else happened, as after all, he was hungry.

He watched as George Dennell when over to the food table and grabbed the cloth.  
  
"Watch everyone as I perform a bit of slight of hand!" He pulled it, endeavoring to do his trick. Instead of producing a feat of magic, he sent the food flying in every direction.

The jello mold hit the ceiling and for some reason it stuck, hanging there like an orange blob.

April collapsed on the sofa beside Kuryakin, slapping her forehead in exasperation.  Illya calmly handed her his tumbler of vodka and she nearly emptied it.

I think I'll let someone else host next year's Halloween party, "she mumbled, turning towards Kuryakin.

"Do not look at me. I do not host parties of any kind."

Someone turned up the stereo and the song ‘Monster Mash’ blasted from the speakers sending the partiers into a frenzied version of ‘the twist’. Mister Waverly in his Frankenstein costume was a hit on the dance floor.

No one heard the pounding at the apartment door as Napoleon stood out in the hallway trying to get back into the party.

Sadly, he had no lock pic with him.

"Happy Halloween, " he mumbled to himself.

"Happy Halloween to you too," a voice spoke from behind him. It was Heather McNabb dressed in a skimpy nurses uniform.

"Don't you look like quite the sexy vixen,"he smiled.

"You're looking sexy yourself," she smiled back at him. She had 'that' look in her eye, and it was right up his alley.

"This party's a bit of a drag Heather, how about we have a private party at my place instead?"

"No tricks now Napoleon."

"Oh no, only treats, that I can guarantee."

 


End file.
